


Tainted

by aeriamamaduck



Series: Dragon Age: Origins [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dalish Origin, Fifth Blight, The Taint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4293939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenthari Mahariel tries to hold on to what she knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tainted

Fenthari sat by the fire, trying to ignore the concerned stares she knew were aimed her way, particularly Ashalle’s. The children were keeping their distance, and she wondered if she truly looked that bad. She felt…wrong, to say the least. Duncan’s words in the ruins had shaken her, but perhaps he would provide a cure for her and life would return to normal.

 _No, Tamlen is gone,_  she reminded herself.  _Nothing will ever be normal again._

The rest of the clan was restless, not knowing when and if they were going to leave, and if they were truly going to leave one of their own behind to an unknown fate. All they knew was that Hahren Paivel was preparing a song for the young hunter.

Unable to sit still any longer Fenthari got to her feet and brushed off the clinging grass from her legs. She fought off a wave of nausea as she stood, breathing through her nose and telling herself that she was not weak. She was a Dalish hunter, and she would prevail.

Climbing up the hill she spotted the Keeper and Duncan sitting on logs outside of her aravel, and sighed in relief. At last they will have determined a cure for her, and she could help her clan during this difficult time.

She walked toward them, and both their gazes rose at the sound of her approach. Fenthari froze when she saw the grim look on Marethari’s face and the pity on Duncan’s. Even so, Fenthari walked up to them and sat before Marethari. She was no skittish child to frighten at bad news. _Whatever comes, I will face it._

Duncan addressed her first. “Your Keeper and I have spoken, and we’ve come to an arrangement that concerns you. My order is in need of help. You are in need of a cure. When I leave, I hope you will join me. You would make an excellent Grey Warden.”

His words made her stomach pitch violently. Join him? A  _shemlen?_ Her?

Fenthari frowned at him, too frightened to understand completely. “What does this have to do with my cure?”

He crossed his arms and answered, “Everything, I’m afraid. The darkspawn taint courses through your veins. That you recovered at all is remarkable. But eventually the taint will sicken and kill you, or worse. The Grey Wardens can prevent that, but it means joining us.”

True enough, she did feel ill, and had a few bad moments when they were making their way back to the camp. Merrill had also felt the evil wafting off those hideous creatures and even being near them made Fenthari want to retch. “Will I be able to return to my clan?”

Keeper Marethari shook her head. “We do not know. But we could not watch you suffer. The Grey Warden offers you a way to survive.”

Duncan went on in a gentle tone, “This is not simply charity on my part. I would not offer this if I did not think you had the makings of a Grey Warden. Let me be clear: You will likely never return here. We go to fight the darkspawn, a battle that will take us far from your clan. But we need you and others like you.”

Cold trickled down Fenthari’s limbs, worse than this illness coursing through her. Desperate, she lifted herself off the log to kneel in front of Marethari, taking the Keeper’s hands in her own and asking, “Is the clan sending me away?!”

Marethari gave her hands a soft squeeze and replied, “A great army of darkspawn gathers in the south. A new Blight threatens the land. We cannot outrun this storm.” Her hand reached up to stroke Fenthari’s hair, a gesture filled with sorrow. “Long ago, the Dalish agreed to aid the Grey Wardens against a Blight, should that day arrive. We must honor that agreement. It breaks my heart to send you away. As it would to watch you die slowly from this sickness. This is your duty, and your salvation.”

Fenthari shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “This is all I’ve ever known! This is my home!” Her voice rose in pitch and she realized others could probably hear her, but that mattered little to her. Not when she was so close to losing them.

Duncan stated in a firm tone, “A home that darkspawn may tear apart. This way, you can find a cure and protect your clan. Have courage.”

He said it as though it were so easy, that she could just be torn away from her home in the same way a careless child might uproot a flower. Fenthari turned away from him and looked at Marethari entreatingly.

But the Keeper, though sorrowful, was resolute. “I cannot express my sadness at sending one of our daughters off into such danger, away from the clan that loves her. But if this is what the Creators intend for you, _da’len_ , meet your destiny with your head held high.” She took Fenthari’s face in both her hands and said in a strong voice. “No matter where you go, you are Dalish. Never forget that.”

Fenthari sobbed helplessly and buried her face in the Keeper’s lap. “Please, do not cast me away!” Marethari could not ask this of her. She was Dalish and belonged with her clan! They were her family! How could she leave Ashalle?

She felt Marethari stroke her hair soothingly and felt nothing but horror at the resignation in that gesture. “I am sorry,  _da’len_.”

Duncan’s voice was dispirited. “Very well. You leave me no choice. I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription.”

The words were meaningless to Fenthari, but even so she keened fearfully into the Keeper’s lap when she answered, “And I witness and acknowledge your invocation, Duncan of the Grey Wardens.”

Fenthari shook violently, this pain worse than anything she had ever felt in her life. For the first time she understood her mother’s weakness. How would she ever survive without the faces that loved her?

As her tears stung her eyes she remembered how she’d borne the pain of the  _vallaslin_. Silent as a hare, Fenthari sat and endured, no sound ever escaping her lips. Now she would be called to endure again.

Marethari had taught them all that the Creators had a plan. She clutched to that belief and decided to trust the gods. She had been tainted, and had a way to survive. She wiped at her eyes and straightened, looking right at Marethari and nodding in acceptance. If this was her fate, then so be it.

Duncan gave her a sympathetic look. “I am sorry this was not your choice, but the darkspawn threat is simply too great.”

She kept her gaze away from him, knowing she would only glare at him for taking her away from everything she loved.

Marethari stroked at her moist cheeks. “I know you’ll do your clan proud, _da’len_.” She then removed a ring from her finger and pressed it to Fenthari’s palm, closing her fingers over it. “Take this ring. It is your heritage and will protect you against the darkness to come.”

First her father’s amulet and now the Keeper’s willow ring. Perhaps she’d been destined to leave from the moment of her birth.

“A valuable gift,” the human commented softly.

Fenthari took a deep breath and trained her gaze to a civil one when she turned to him. “I would like to stay for Tamlen’s funeral.”

Duncan nodded in understanding. “I cannot deny you that. Say your farewells…then we must be off.”

Marethari helped her to her feet. “Come then,  _da’len_. Before the Creators guide you from us, let your clan embrace you one last time.”

Fenthari closed her aching eyes, remembering the words she’d known from the moment she could remember.  _We are the Dalish: Keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last Elvhenan. Never again shall we submit._

She would never submit.


End file.
